


Lost Without You

by needfricnds



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Post-Episode: s04e11 The Elongated Knight Rises, Protective Oliver Queen, Westallen friendship, oh man so much pining, this is... so gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-05-26 22:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15011240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needfricnds/pseuds/needfricnds
Summary: Post 4.11 - Oliver takes a much needed trip to Iron Heights.





	1. Patience

Oliver is a patient person. A trait that may not have been originally in his nature, but one certainly found out of necessity. It has kept him alive for over ten years. He relishes in the quiet seconds, when he pulls the string back on his bow. He feels the familiar stretch of his muscles, rippling across his shoulders and back. A breath. Waiting for the right moment to strike his target. _Breathe, aim, fire._

 

He remembers the early days of being on the island, and like a new-born deer on its first legs, he was getting used to the bow. The contours felt foreign and dangerous under his soft palms, but he could put his guilt aside in the face of hunger. _Shēngcún_ , Yao Fei had repeated. _Survive._

 

He had seen a bird, absorbed and sitting still between the trees. It hadn’t given him any notice, too caught up in what Oliver liked to think, was a passing daydream. His window was wide open, and with an arrow nocked and ready, he felt it. Total focus. It was the first time he really understood what Yao Fei had meant about wielding such a weapon.

 

Though a far off disturbance had startled the bird, beady eyes full of a glad power in its escape, it was definitely not a day wasted. That bird, while it may have kept him starving for one day longer, saved his life in years to come. It taught him patience.

 

Barry Allen likes to test this patience daily.

 

Particularly when they spar. It’s different from when they team up – a different type of tension sits heavy in the air those times. No, sparring with Barry is like weathering a storm. He is flurry of movement, hard to keep track of; even when he doesn’t use his speed. Oliver savours the heavy breaths, lungs roaring in his chest when they’ve both been driven to exhaustion. The sweat cooling on his back. The feeling of caging the younger man in his arms to trap him, like bottling lightning, his lithe body pressed close.

 

Barry is the clumsiest person that Oliver knows, but that disappears when he fights. He is graceful, treating each moment like a dance; something to enjoy.

 

And he does enjoy it. They both do. Every so often, when Oliver hands Barry a towel, the man makes the same remark. _We should invite the others ‘round to watch. See if you can keep up with me with an audience._ Oliver always responds with a laugh. _What, so they can watch your ass get handed to you?_

 

Maybe Oliver’s selfish, but he’d prefer to keep Barry to himself for their training sessions.

 

With his every step, every word, every look, Barry threatens the perfectly constructed wall of patience Oliver has built up over the years. It takes everything in him to stop himself from pouncing on the scientist. And it infuriates Oliver, because he _allows_ it to happen. If it was anybody else, Oliver would have put a stop to it. What makes Barry different?

 

Oliver knows what. He knows. But admitting that would unleash a fury of feelings that are unnecessary right now, for the both of them.

 

( _It’s his light,_ a voice tells him. _His energy. His smile. The darkness in you yearns to envelop it. You can’t let it. He doesn’t deserve that._ )

 

Oliver envies Barry for many reasons, but doesn’t think that anybody would want to be in his shoes right now. Being framed for murder isn’t like how it is in the movies. It’s cold, and it’s lonely. The whole world is against you, thinking that you’re something you’re not, even when you’re a superhero. Hell, Oliver has been arrested for _actual_ murder and got off lightly. Barry doesn’t deserve this.

 

When he heard about Barry’s arrest and subsequent trial, it certainly wasn’t from the speedster himself. It was from Cisco, through Felicity, who’s gentle but worried voice couldn’t do anything to soften the impact. God knows that if it weren’t for their teams, Oliver may never have found out --- Barry always kept these things from Oliver, so he wouldn’t worry. _Of course_ he would worry. Being wrongly imprisoned isn’t anything like the injuries that come with being the fastest man alive.

 

Which is why his leg is bouncing erratically, _up down up down_ , as he waits for Barry to appear on the other side of the glass. He smooths a rough palm over his thigh, calming the motion. _This_ is what Barry does to him.

 

Soon enough, a bewildered figure ambles from the corridor opposite, and their eyes lock. Oliver almost didn’t recognise him. It’s the beard, he thinks. Or perhaps it’s the hopelessly tired look in his eyes. The dreary navy prison outfit just makes him look even more monochrome.

 

And yet, Barry still manages to smile. It brightens up the whole room.

 

The younger man slips through the gate, sitting across from Oliver and eagerly taking the worn out, black receiver into his grasp. Cradles it with his two hands, like it’ll somehow bring him closer to Oliver. They are so near, separated by only glass, and yet they are still worlds apart. Oliver takes his own receiver, and brings it up to his ear.

 

“Didn’t think you had it in you to grow facial hair, Bear.”

 

A soft chuckle breathes its way through the phone, into Oliver’s ear, and it’s like music to him. “A lot’s changed, Ollie.” Barry ducks his head shyly, before meeting his eyes again.

 

There's an implied conversation, that neither of them quite voice.

 

 _Are you okay?_ Oliver sends, eyebrows furrowed in concern.  _Really, okay?_

 

 _I'm okay._ Barry nods.  _Just tired._

 

A look of slight confusion permeates through his emerald green eyes. He shifts slightly in his seat. “Why are you here? – _not_ that I’m not happy to see you, I just don’t understand. I can’t exactly help out with anything, plus there’s the investigation and –”

 

Mention of the investigation makes him grimace; aka the biggest thorn in his side right now. One that he doesn’t want to stick in Barry’s side by talking about it. “I dropped everything when I heard about the sentencing – thanks for not telling me, by the way,” The words are said with only light scolding. Watson will be very interested in this encounter, he expects. “Investigation be damned. You’re more important to me, Barry.”

 

The man looks a little thrown for a split second, a _blink-and-you’ll-miss-it_ type of look that Oliver has become used to catching from the speedster. “Oh… well, thank you. It’s always nice to see a friend in here.” His expression perks up a bit, a genuine smile thrown Oliver’s way. Perhaps there's a tiny bit of hurt in it too. 

 

 _You don’t know how much I wish we were more than that._ “What happened, Barry?”

 

Barry tells him everything he can in their short time. The knives, how he hadn’t thought much of them – right up to him finding the bleeding, and very much deceased body of Professor Clifford Devoe in his apartment. Of course, Oliver believed him, even before reading that the newspaper article in Jitters before visitation opened. Oliver could never think of Barry as a murderer. He’s not sure how anyone could.

 

He has to remind himself that they don’t know Barry like he does. They haven’t witnessed his optimism first hand. They haven’t crumbled under the warmth of his stare. They haven’t fought by his side. They haven’t questioned, time and time again, how one man can be so _kind_ , despite it all.

 

They don’t know how it feels to love someone like Barry Allen.

 

 _It’s electric,_ he would tell them, _in every sense of the word. It’s brilliant, and beautiful, and oh so_ painful _all at once._

 

Oliver shakes his head at the injustice of it all. “Barry, if there’s anything I can do –”

 

“No,” the man interrupts, conviction in his voice. “I am not having you risk your own freedom to try and help me, Watson is holding you up enough as it is. My team will figure something out, Oliver.”

 

“This isn’t _fair._ You shouldn’t be in this place. You’re a good man.”

 

“I can handle myself in here, you know. Everything you’ve taught me hasn’t gone to waste.”

 

Oliver doesn’t like the implication that Barry has _already_ had to use what he’s learned from their sparring sessions, but his reassuring smile is enough to placate Oliver. He hates how much power Barry can have over him with one simple look.

 

“That’s not the _point_ , Barry – ” he sighs, but the loud buzzer sound interrupts him and they both deflate. Time’s up. So, instead of correcting the man, he settles to say, “I miss our training sessions.”

 

It’s met with a laugh and a bright smile, and Oliver can’t help his own. “So do I.”

 

_I miss you more._

 

_So do I._

 

The ageing guard behind Barry calls him in a gruff voice, urging him to hurry up. Oliver had noticed the man before, impatiently checking his watch every few moments; lunch is probably soon. The thought makes his blood boil. How men like him get to treat people like Barry. Like he’s worth less than the food he’ll soon devour.

 

Barry must notice Oliver’s grip on the receiver get dangerously tight. “Hey,” he says softly, calling back his attention. Oliver tears his eyes away, to see Barry’s palm resting against the glass. Oliver doesn’t understand for a second, but catches on quick – he lifts his free hand to meet Barry’s on the glass. It hurts to only feel the cold divider, and not the warmth of Barry’s soft hands, but the gesture is comforting. “I’ll see you soon, alright? Don’t be a stranger.”

 

It’s taking all of his willpower to not smash the glass and pull the man into a hug. (He says he’s not a hugger. He _is_ when he’s with Barry).

 

It's taking all of his willpower to not tell Barry how he feels. ( _Just in case_ he never gets to say the words).

 

 _Be patient, Ollie,_ Barry sends through his smile. _It will work out._

“Bye, Barry”

 

“Bye, Oliver.”


	2. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry disappears, and Oliver is less than pleased.

Dealing with the scourge that was Cayden James meant that there really was no time to spare for visiting Barry. With the splitting up of the team, the FBI digging their heels in, and the _attacks_ – it’s safe to say that a phone call was the most he could manage each day. He so wished he could talk to Barry in person again, and almost felt guilty about his absence, but Barry understood. He always did.

 

He was about the only person that Oliver felt was truly, one-hundred percent on his side. Even when they did disagree, Barry always had his back. Just like Oliver had his.

 

_(I’m – I’m not going without him.)_

_(Then you’ll be here, Oliver.)_

Of course Barry, being his usual kind self, did his best to make Oliver feel better about not visiting. The man was in prison, and _he_ was the one making Oliver feel better. That spoke _volumes_.

 

“ _Your city needs you now more than ever, Ollie_ ,” his warm voice had crackled through the phone, the night of Cayden’s digital rage on Star. “ _I’m not going anywhere any time soon. I’ll still be here when Cayden James is just a bad memory._ ”

 

The thought of Barry spending _life_ in jail still makes his heart heavy. “Sometimes I feel like the city would do better without me,” Oliver admitted softly, staring out at the darkened evening skyline from his office window. “And William – after tonight, and the attacks… I just feel like things between us have driven to a standstill. I don’t know where to go from here. ”

 

“ _Don’t say that. You’re a brilliant mayor, and an even better father,_ ” The raw honesty in Barry’s voice made the emotion catch in Oliver’s throat for a moment. He’s still not quite used to this… whatever _this_ is. “ _You’re not perfect, but nobody is._ ”

 

There was a beat, and they both basked in the silence for a few seconds. Silence is still good company around Barry, he’s learned.

 

“ _For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty great,_ ” Barry laughed, and Oliver smiled despite himself. “ _And I think William thinks so too. Flaws and everything. He’s still adjusting to his new life, remember. I know it took me a while. Just… keep on being there for him. He trusts you to be the father that I know you can be, and that's a pretty special thing.”_

Leave it to Barry Allen to leave him speechless time and time again.

 

* * *

 

It had started with Barry not calling him yet that morning – that was somewhat worrying enough in itself. Oliver couldn’t help but spare fleeting glances to his phone every few minutes in a meeting that he, quite frankly, didn’t understand why he was attending.

 

Looking for some, _any_ , escape, Oliver leapt at his chance when his phone finally buzzed. His heart leapt too, at the thought of it being Barry, but deflated seeing a text from I. West.

_Iris?_

 

As friendly as the two were with each other, it was a rarity for him to get a text from the reporter.

 

In Oliver’s mind, that could only mean one thing.

 

_[ I. WEST ]: Hey, we could really use ur help. Can u make it to visitation today?_

 

“I’m sorry I – I have to go,” Oliver remembers saying, his mind only half present on the ring of board members around him that all seemed to blend into one, and the other half on a certain speedster six hundred miles away. “Family emergency.”

 

Lance had visibly flared in concern at those words, but Oliver had assured him it was okay, asking him to take over. He fires Iris back a speedy response, letting her know that he was on his way.

 

Oliver’s not sure that he’s ever hopped on his bike quicker. His worry festers.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a sad reality that Oliver knows the interior of Iron Heights better than he should. His own stunts may have never landed him in a permanent cell here, but this place serves as a reminder of how many times he _should_ have been thrown in one. It reminds him of the Undertaking; his own mother. The sacrifices she made for her children. The many friends who had sacrificed  _themselves_ for Oliver's sake. For his cause.

 

And everywhere he looks, he sees Laurel.

 

He smooths down the front of his suit as he navigates the halls, to find Iris and DA Horton waiting outside visitation. Iris breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of him, and walks the rest of the distance to meet him, the DA on her heels.

 

“Thanks for coming, Oliver,” Iris smiles, albeit a little sadly. “Sorry it couldn’t be under better circumstances.”

 

“Well, better circumstances are a rare thing nowadays,” Oliver agrees, before reaching to shake the DA’s hand. “DA Horton, it’s nice to finally meet you. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for Barry.”

 

“Please, Cecile is just fine,” Cecile returns, before she glances between him and Iris. “It’s a good thing you came when you did.”

 

“Barry isn’t feeling too optimistic about the appeal hearing,” Iris explains, as they walk through to visitation. “We thought that if he saw you, he might feel different about it.”

 

Oliver can’t seem to find the right response to that.

 

He studies the reporter’s face, seeing a special kind of fatigue reflecting back at him. She is still beautiful in her tiredness, the sag in her shoulders – the quiet in her voice. Knowing how much it affects _him,_ Oliver can’t imagine the strain that Barry’s imprisonment is having on her, on the team; on this entire city.

 

He knows that his heart breaks every time he thinks about Barry.

 

Iris, heart of pure diamond, looks like she is just bending under the weight of the injustice done to her best friend. But, no, she does not break.

 

Oliver’s not sure how she does it.

 

“Don’t lose hope, Iris, we still have a few days to prepare.” Cecile assures the woman.

 

“I know, but it’s not like we’ve come up with any new ideas for clearing Barry’s name.” Iris sits in the worn out chair with a sigh, and peering through the thick glass divider, they wait for Barry.

 

The old metal gate closes with a dying screech. He does not appear.

 

Iris stands, and Cecile frowns. “A bigger issue is we don’t seem to have _Barry_.”

 

Oliver tenses immediately. Despite Barry’s predisposition for being late, he has never missed a visit. Not even by a minute.

 

_“It’s not like I have much else to do.” Barry had laughed through the phone, his voice honey-sweet and salubrious to Oliver’s concerns. “Well, besides talking to you and winning pudding cups from Mayor Bellows. Though, I’d forfeit all of my cups for a week if it meant I got to see you again.”_

 

Something was wrong.

 

“Miss West, Mayor Queen –” a deep, gravelly voice says from behind them. Oliver turns only to come face to face with Warden Wolfe.

 

He was far from the image of a heavyset, old man that Oliver had created in his mind. Tall, and with a near despotic look in his eyes that only Oliver seemed to catch, he instantly took a disliking to the man.

 

“Unfortunately, you won’t be able to see your friend today, he was in an altercation.”

 

That was news to Oliver.

 

“An _altercation_?” Cecile questions, looking at the Warden in disbelief.

 

“A prison yard fight.”

 

“ _What?_ Is he okay?” Iris butts in, equally confused. Getting into fights doesn’t sound like Barry at _all_.

 

“Oh he’s fine, he’s fine. He wasn’t harmed, and he wasn’t at fault, but, per Iron Heights’ protocol, everyone involved is in isolation for the week.”

 

“Warden Wolfe, is it?” Oliver pipes up. He knows the man’s name perfectly well, but will use anything to show that he is unafraid of him. He plasters on a smile, politic and fake to the very corners of his lips, in an attempt to sway the man. “It would be great if you let us see Barry, it’s pretty important. A couple of minutes is all we need.”

 

The Warden’s own smile looks almost like it pains the man to display.  “I am very sorry, Mr. Mayor, but rules are rules, even for you. Visits will have to wait until next week.”

 

“If he wasn’t at fault, then you should have no problems releasing him, if it’s to do with his case–”

 

“With all due respect, you don’t have the same experience with this system that I have.” A beat. A solitary glare; an intimidation. “Not from _my_ side of it, anyway, if the news is anything to believe nowadays.”

 

The Wolf isn’t without claws, clearly.

 

Oliver bristles at the other man’s words, staring daggers. He laughs hollowly. “This is ridiculous – Barry doesn’t get into _fights_. He is an innocent man. Always has been, always will be. I know him better than I know myself. I _trust_ him.”

 

“Then perhaps you need to re-evaluate that trust, Mayor Queen.” Wolfe quickly fires back, not backing down. He does not raise his voice; he doesn’t need to. But his tone is steel, and Oliver knows that Wolfe feels powerful in his position. “Barry Allen is not the man you seem to _think_ he is. He is a killer in the eyes of the state, whether he was on our side before or not.”

 

It takes everything in Oliver to not _lunge_ at his words. Iris must notice, as her soft hand grips at his bicep, a silent _‘not here… not now’_.  

 

It’s exactly what Barry would do, if he were here.

 

“I don’t think that’s very professional of you, Warden.” Cecile says, slight warning in her own tone.

 

“ _Professional_ or not,” Oliver continues, voice low and dangerous. To any of the other visitors, it wouldn’t appear to be anything more than a civil chat. He’d prefer to keep it that way. “I still need to see Barry. You can’t deny me that.”

 

“Actually, I can,” Wolfe spits. “I don’t believe that your jurisdiction stretches six hundred miles outside of your city’s limits, _Mr. Mayor_ , and I certainly don’t have to respond to your demands in my own facility.”

 

To say that Oliver was annoyed, would be understatement of the century.

 

He was fucking _livid_.

 

His lip begins to curl up into what could nearly be described as a _snarl,_ when Iris interrupts in her soft, worried voice. The break helps to ease some of his tension. “Is he _safe_ , at least?”

 

Wolfe tears his focus away from Oliver, putting on a genial face once more. “Oh, he couldn’t be more safe. Actually, it’s a pretty common occurrence…”

 

Tuning him out, Oliver decides that he barely trusts this man. _As far as I can throw him_.  He’s seen the same look in Warden Wolfe’s eyes, which he’s seen in the eyes of people like Adrian Chase. The superiority, as if they should have people kneeling in their stead. The blatant lies, disguised in tones that make them appear like they _care_.

 

The fact that Wolfe gets to stand there and call Barry a _killer_ , when he has probably killed dozens, if not hundreds of men, sickens him.  

 

What hurts worse, is that people like Wolfe and Chase are in positions of power, where they could do some real good. They could _help_ , not harm.

 

The final nail in the coffin, is the fact that they are not the only ones.

 

“…The important thing to know is, he’s in good hands. You can rest easy at night.”

 

Iris nods, her voice solemn. “Thank you, Warden.”

 

Cecile suddenly perks up again, as she reaches to shake the man’s hand. “Yes! Thank you.”

 

Oliver glares. He extends out his own hand to shake, gripping Wolfe’s dangerously tight.

 

Wolfe simply smiles, holding his stare; almost as if to say ‘ _Try something. See what happens’._

 

Oliver is very close to following through on that threat.

 

 _I trust that you'll do the right thing, Ollie._  

 

Before he can do anything, the warden disappears down the hall, cool as ice, and Oliver has to take a deep breath. _God, he misses Barry._

Iris turns to look at Cecile, and worry instantly floods her features. It doesn’t help to dissolve Oliver’s own fears either. “What is it?”

 

The woman shares a glance with them both, shaking her head.

 

“Nothing good.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #GiveOliverHisBarry2k18
> 
> sorry this chapter is kinda dialogue heavy! i'm feeling pretty excited for the next few of chapters :)
> 
> (and most of the dialogue is taken from the episode, all credit goes to the flash writers!)


	3. Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry comes home, while Oliver comes to a realisation.

The worst thing about Barry’s abduction was that there was nothing Oliver could do to help. Not in his position anyway. Warden Wolfe already knew of his presence in Central City. Given the accusations against Oliver in his own city, it wouldn't be great if the Green Arrow were to show up at his doorstep, demanding the location of Barry and the other bus metas. Eyebrows would definitely be raised.

 

He wouldn’t have been much help back at base either. He’s skilled, but he’s no Felicity Smoak when it comes to tracking by computer. But he wants to help Barry, he needs the satisfaction of seeing him safe again, just as much as the rest of them. He would gladly find Amunet and give her just a glimpse of what he was capable of, but he can’t.

 

It’s like he’s stuck in limbo. A bystander to chaos; blameless, but regretful still.

 

Oliver isn’t sure he wants to watch Ralph shapeshift into that _Scottish two-faced rat_ again anytime in the future either, so he makes his quiet exit from the cortex. Reaching into his suit pocket, he takes out his phone and, just for a moment, flicks through his and Barry’s texts.

 

**DECEMBER 19, 2017 (19:41)**

_[_ BARRY _]: Everyone’s okay, and DeVoe’s in the wind. Maybe this is shaping up to be a quiet holiday after all._

_[ OLIVER ]: We can only hope._

_[ OLIVER ]: Sorry I couldn’t make it to the party._

_[ BARRY ]: It’s fine, I can’t wait to see you again._

_[ BARRY ]: For training, I mean. I miss it._

_[ OLIVER ]: You won’t be saying that when we start sparring again._

_[ BARRY ]: True. You’re gonna be the death of me, Oliver Queen :)_

_[_ _BARRY ]: …_

_[ BARRY ]: Sorry, I’m getting a call. We’ll talk later, alright?_

_[ BARRY ]: Merry Christmas, Ollie._

_[ OLIVER ]: Merry Christmas, Barry._

 

**DECEMBER 22, 2017 (10:28)**

_[ OLIVER ]: Barry?_

_[ OLIVER ]: You didn’t forget about training today, did you?_

_[ OLIVER ]: You’re not usually this late. Is everything okay?_

 

_**DECEMBER 25, 2017 (17:23)** _

_[ OLIVER ]: Merry Christmas, Bear. Please call me ASAP ***Message not sent. Retry?**_

 

_**DECEMBER 26, 2017 (12:11)** _

_[ OLIVER ]: So Felicity told me what happened. * **Message not sent. Retry?** _

_[ OLIVER ]: I guess they took your phone away. ***Message not sent. Retry?**_

 

_**DECEMBER 31, 2017 (23:56)** _

_[ OLIVER ]: drunk and i miss yuo ***Message not sent. Retry?** _

_[ OLIVER ]: god i rlly rlly miss u ***Message not sent. Retry?** _

_[ OLIVER ]: nothings th same anymore ***Message not sent. Retry?** _

_[_ _OLIVER ]: im going to kill him for what he did to u ***Message not sent. Retry?**_

 

_**JANUARY 1, 2018 (00:00)** _

_[ OLIVER ]: happy new year bear ***Message not sent. Retry?** _

_[ OLIVER ]: im lost without you barry. please be okay ***Message not sent. Retry?**_

Oliver has good self-control when it comes to alcohol. He’s seen how badly it affected the people around him, and keeping fit was important to him.

 

But those messages were a moment of weakness; one that he’d rather not look back on.

 

Perhaps he’s not quite as ready to face his feelings for Barry as he first thought.

 

Iris appears from around the corner, leaning against the walls. “I’m sorry for dragging you all this way for nothing,” she sighs. “Why don’t you go home, Oliver? Your team still need you, and we can keep you updated from here.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere until he’s safe.” Oliver replies, voice soft. He doesn’t look towards Iris, deleting the unsent messages and pocketing the phone. “My team can hold up fine without me.”

 

She seemingly understands nonetheless. “I miss him too.” she nods slightly, resting her hands in the back pockets of her jeans as she slowly walked towards him. “We’re gonna get him back, I promise you.”

 

“And I don’t doubt that, Iris. I’m just… worried. He told me that I shouldn’t worry about him like I do, but I can’t exactly help that.”

 

Iris chuckles. “Yeah, that sounds like Barry. But he’s not entirely wrong. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now, and I don’t think Barry would want to add to that.”

 

Oliver quietly considers that for a second. It’s true - things are hectic. Star City is not the home he once knew. The future of his team is uncertain. His relationship with William is the same.

 

Barry just makes it all that little bit easier.

 

Training with him every week helped to ground them both, Oliver liked to think. It reminded Oliver of the reason why he was pursuing his mission. It was to purge his city of evil and injustice so that he could protect the ones that he loved. He reflects on his past and uses it to his strengths.

 

Barry told him that the training gave him a reason to look to the future; to not dwell on his past and let it slow him down. It reminds him to keep moving forward. To keep training, and getting stronger, so that when the time comes, he can face anything.

 

Ever since Barry left the speedforce, he’s been so much _lighter_. Like he’s finally found some peace with himself.

 

That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t struggle sometimes.

 

“I’ll always worry about him,” he admits. “Whether he’s training with me, or out doing the impossible. He worries me to death sometimes...”

 

“I know the feeling,” Iris nods, understanding. “I haven’t stopped worrying about him ever since he first walked into our house after Nora’s death. It’s kind of irrational, I know, but it’ll always be in the back of my head. He has a habit of getting himself into trouble without meaning to,”

 

Oliver laughs softly. _Doesn’t he know it._

 

“But the thing about Barry, is that everything he does? He does for us. The people he loves, and the people that he doesn’t even know. But he always forgets about himself in the process. He would die for this city - and he almost has. _A lot_. You know how much of a _self-sacrificial idiot_ he can be sometimes,” Iris smiles, the words holding no malice for her friend. “Which means it’s our job to be there for him when he needs us. Even if he says he doesn’t need us; especially then,”

 

Iris pauses then, her smile falling slightly. She bites her lip in thought as she looks at Oliver, concerned.

 

“But there’s too much risk, for you get involved. You don’t think the Warden will put two and two together when he sees the Green Arrow rescuing Barry, just as you show up?” Iris sighs softly. “We need look out for everyone on the team, as well as Barry. That includes you. He wouldn’t want to finally be free from prison, only to see you take his place. None of us would.”

 

Iris is right, but Oliver would still love nothing more than to really show the Warden and Amunet what he’s made of.

 

Why messing with Barry Allen was the _wrong move_.

 

Iris must see his knuckles turning white as he grips them into a tight fist, as she rests her hand on his arm. “He’ll be okay, Oliver, I can promise you that much,” she reassures. “Caitlin knows how Amunet operates. If she knows she’s going to make a profit off of him, it’s in her best interests to keep him alive, and not hurt him if she can help it,”

 

Oliver does feel a little better at her words, but he would still never trust someone like Amunet to stick with her usual tricks. Especially where the Flash was concerned.

 

“Alright,” Oliver concedes finally. “I’ll head back. But you have to keep me updated.”

 

Iris smiles softly, nodding. “The second we find out anything, you’ll be the first to know.”

 

It eases his mind more to hear that, but apparently, Iris isn’t done.

 

“You love him, don’t you?”

 

He’s not surprised that she’s figured it out. She’s not a reporter for nothing. Though, he supposes it’s obvious at this point.

 

( How could it not be? It feels like one big, blatant neon sign across his heart. Yet somehow, Barry can’t see it. He’s not sure if he feels ready for when Barry does. )

 

Oliver’s silence is enough of an answer for Iris.

 

“We’ll bring him home, Oliver. I promise.”

 

* * *

 

As he drove at his usual dangerous speed down the empty highway, Oliver thought about him.

 

The deafening growl of his motorcycle wasn’t enough to block the thoughts out. Oliver feels the engine under him, _alive_ and humming as it turned the wheels. The dried out and cracked asphalt. The wind racing past him, like it couldn’t get out of his way fast enough.

 

It wasn’t enough to get rid of Barry from his mind. If anything, he felt closer to the speedster than ever. He may not be running, but the feeling that the speed brings is insurmountable.

 

The street lights stream past, like fireflies against the dark evening sky. Oliver realises that he’s just approaching the city’s limits. The signpost passes him by, and Oliver catches his breath.

 

_Goodbye from Central City! Home of The Flash ( and Kid Flash )_

 

He shakes his head, grip tightening on the handlebars. _No, this isn’t right. I can’t - I can’t leave._

 

_I’m not leaving him._

 

Turning around was one of the easiest decision he’s ever made.

 

* * *

 

Oliver parks his motorcycle under a tree, the leaves long gone from the cold winter just passed. The sun beat down on the back of Oliver’s neck, despite the cold breeze that passed lazily through the air. He removes the helmet that Felicity insisted that he wear on his trip over, shaking his head a little now that he could finally breathe properly. He then takes another deep breath, for a different reason.

 

Looking towards the West house, Oliver feels his heart constrict like he’s so used to feeling now. Barry was _home_. Iris had texted him the good news. He was free, apparently thanks to Ralph’s weird party trick of a meta-power, but not in the way they had originally planned.

 

Perhaps he should take it a little easier on the other hero now, in thanks for Barry’s safe return.

 

_Nah._

 

Walking towards the front porch, and up the old wood stairs, he stops at the door. He technically wasn’t invited. From what Team Flash knew, Oliver had just gone back to Star City after Iris talked to him. Originally, that was the plan.

 

Turning back around and booking himself into a hotel for the night _wasn’t_ the plan. _Expect the plan to go off the rails. Throw away the plan._ That’s what Barry said Snart told him, right?

 

Sound advice, even from a criminal.

 

Muffled laughter erupts from inside the house, and Oliver exhales. Jet black helmet in one hand, he raises his fist and knocks at the door. The noise dies slightly and, for a moment, Oliver doubts himself. Maybe it was a mistake, coming here. Maybe ---

 

Barry opens the door with a surprised look on his face. A smile quickly follows; his tired, yet happy eyes and newly bearded face lighting up. He looks too shocked to say anything other than a quiet call of Oliver’s name.

 

“I heard that you were home,” Oliver greets him, with a grin of his own. “Wanted to say goodbye before I went back to mine.”

 

Barry turns to his team, his family behind him. “I’ll be just a second.” He steps through the door and shuts it behind him. Oliver backtracks, leaning against the porch column.

 

“Ollie.” Barry repeats happily, and it sounds so much better when it’s not through an old plastic phone. When he’s not trapped behind glass. When they’re not six hundred miles apart. “I thought that you left for Star City already?”

 

“I did… but I had to turn back. I couldn’t bring myself to leave yet,” Oliver admits, crossing his arms over his torso. “Not until I knew you were safe.”

 

Barry takes a step closer to the other man, mirroring his actions. Flannel covered arms hug close to his chest, and his shoulders hike up slightly. If Oliver had to guess, he would say that Barry was almost cold.

 

Maybe not _freezing_ , but the speedster could certainly feel the chill in the air. It’s not really surprising either, but it’s by no means any less infuriating. Barry has gone weeks without a proper meal to sustain his metabolism.

 

Oliver had seen the effects of that with nearly every visit. He had watched Barry try to huddle in on himself; always wearing either that long navy coat or his grey sweater. Or both, if that day was really bad.

 

The better days were when one of his team could sneak some of his (quite frankly) gross high-calorie protein bars into the cell.

 

The better days were also  _rare_ , according to a disheartened Cisco.

 

He can only imagine the icy cell that Barry had to face. The rust of metal, iron grinding to a sharp halt as the lights went out routinely at sundown. Darkness crawling over his shoulders; an unwelcome party guest. Cold as unforgiving as a kiss from Frost herself.

 

The reminder of his father etched permanently both into a cool concrete wall and Barry’s mind.

 

But seeing him now, Oliver’s worry fades. Colour floods Barry’s cheeks, and he’s regained some lost energy in his step. He still looks hopelessly _tired_ , (though could he really be blamed?) but at least he looks healthier, despite only being free for not even a day. Oliver’s probably got Caitlin to thank for that.

 

Barry has found his warmth again. It radiates from his soul, through his gaze and pours itself relentlessly into Oliver. He’s _drunk_ on it.

 

Another step. Barry considers him, now that the distance between them has closed that little bit more. Oliver can’t quite read his expression. His deep green eyes are filled with something he can’t pinpoint; admiration, curiosity? Longingness?

 

The latter may just be wishful thinking on his part.

 

“You really are something, Oliver Queen.” Barry finally says with a laugh. Oliver chuckles with him, though a little confused at his words. He doesn’t expand on it.

 

“And you really had me worried, Barry Allen,” he replies quietly with a soft smile. He pushes his weight away from the pillar to close the distance a little more, giving the other man a quick once-over.

 

Oliver sends Barry a familiar look; it becomes a silent exchange. It reminds him of the first time he saw the man behind the glass.

 

_Are you okay?_

 

_I’m okay._

 

_Just tired?_

 

_Just tired._

 

Despite this, Oliver still can’t help himself. “Are you sure that everything’s alright, Barry?”

 

“I feel great, now that I’m back.” Barry nods. His eyes shine, and there’s that goddamn smile again. “Hope this means that you’ll still train me?”

 

“You’ve got no chance of escaping that commitment.” Oliver laughs, and so does the speedster.

 

“Good. I really did miss it,” He pauses, sending a shy look Oliver’s way. “Though I think I might have missed you just that little bit more.” He adds with a quick laugh, gesturing _tiny_ with his fingers. 

 

Oliver practically swoons. “Only a little bit more?” He jokes, which causes another laugh to rise out of the speedster. “I’m hurt.”

 

“Okay, maybe a lot more.”

 

“Well, good. ‘Cause I might have missed you a lot too.”

 

And as quick as lightning, his doubts about everything disappear. All thanks to the smile on Barry’s face.

 

Simply and truly, it’s the _best_ thing Oliver’s seen in a very long time.

 

( _And what Oliver wouldn’t give to wake up next to that smile._ )

 

There’s a short silence, and Barry wastes no time in wrapping his arms around Oliver’s neck and pulling him into a tight hug.

 

Oliver knows that he says, time and time again, that he’s not a hugger.

 

That changes when he’s with Barry, clearly.

 

Oliver’s hands rest on Barry’s back, and his head falls onto his shoulder. He can feel the speedster’s body heat against him, and he melts even more. If Oliver really paid close attention, it was almost like he could feel the electricity thrumming quietly under Barry’s skin. Ease washes over him.

 

He counts the seconds.

 

_One… Two… Three…_

 

“God, It feels like I’ve been away for years,” Barry breaks the silence with a tired, _desperate_ sigh, tightening his hold on the archer. Almost as if the realisation is just hitting him. “And now I’m home…”

 

“It’s good to have you back, Bear.” Oliver mumbles into Barry’s shoulder.

 

Barry hides his face quite comfortably in the crook of Oliver’s neck, despite being the slightly taller one of the pair. He wonders if Barry can feel his heart thrumming in his chest; can feel his pulse in his neck as it bounces, excited.

 

Because he can feel Barry’s heart. The hummingbird caged between two lungs, that reveals no secrets to him.

 

Oliver doesn’t mind. They have time to navigate this.

 

They shouldn’t fit together so perfectly, but they do.

 

And it’s more than Oliver could have asked for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI, I APOLOGISE FOR THE WAIT TIME!!! BUT IT'S HERE NOW!!
> 
> I've got a few more chapters planned for this fic, so it'll more than likely be done by chapter 5 or 6, but I am starting college soon which is gonna slow down updates for all of my fics a little bit :'( and reminder that comments seriously fuel me so if you wanna see more, let me know!!
> 
> Also big thanks to the Olivarry discord server for putting up with me yelling about this for centuries lmfaoo

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys, it's rebel!
> 
> first fic on the archive so ofc it had to be my babies. i saw a ton of people looking for a prison fic (that we were sorely deprived of in both shows) so i had to deliver! i'm thinking of adding another part to this, so if you guys want more, just know that i'm fuelled by comments! 
> 
> this is also a very rare occasion where i write from someone's perspective who isn't barry lmao
> 
> title taken from Lost Without You by Freya Ridings


End file.
